


lost the parts of me that make me whole (am i not worth saving?)

by neoncrayolas



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Eddie has a lot of stuff to work through, M/M, Street fighting, and he does, he has Buck, we love a broken and beaten down main character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 07:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21388354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoncrayolas/pseuds/neoncrayolas
Summary: The first time he steps into the dark ring, only illuminated by the fire coming from the torches lit at the edges, Eddie finally feels every single goddamn thing fade away.(Or, the one where Eddie realizes he's not as angry as he thinks he is - he's just lost).
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 11
Kudos: 320





	lost the parts of me that make me whole (am i not worth saving?)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hi, hello, here is the fic of unresolved Eddie Diaz stuff that no one asked for. Trust me, I love writing Buck, but Eddie's unresolved shit was just calling out to me and I wanted to explore it a bit more!

The first time he steps into the dark ring, only illuminated by the fire coming from the torches lit at the edges, Eddie finally feels every single goddamn thing fade away. He’s only focused on the man in front of him, fists up, sweating, and already sporting a bruise on the side of his head.

Eddie savors the feeling, of knowing that in this moment, nothing else exists – not his anger, not his worry about Buck or Christopher or the lawsuit or the nightmares – _nothing matters _except for his steady breathing and twitching muscles, aching for the fight he knows is coming.

And when the first hit comes, all Eddie has to focus on is the blood roaring in his ears and the pain that makes everything else dissolve into ashes.

~

Logically, he knows what he’s doing is stupid. And dangerous. And illegal.

But when he’s in the ring, tuning out the jeers and yelling around him, for that first moment when he’s only paying attention to his anger that he keeps so carefully hidden away, logic goes out the window.

He’s become addicted to it, he supposes. The feeling of forgetting.

After a while, he has to admit to himself that most of the time, it’s not even about getting his anger out, because he’s had a handle on that for years.

No, if he’s being honest, it’s about taking the hits – because when a fist buries itself into his ribs, or snaps his head to the side as it cuts across his face, every ounce of feeling drains from Eddie, and in that moment, he’s only able to feel the pain.

And that’s what he needs: to not feel anything, to forget.

He has to forget that Shannon died, that she left them yet again. He has to forget that he’s now raising a special needs child alone – Eddie wouldn’t trade Christopher for the entire stash of gold in Atlantis and then some, but he’s also real with himself: it’s fucking hard sometimes. He has to forget that his best friend, his _partner_, the one who’s supposed to have his back, keeps trying to fucking _die _on him. He has to forget that he wasn’t allowed to _talk_ to his best friend, wasn’t allowed to have him there when Christopher was going through so much, when _he _was going through so much. He has to forget the twinges of feeling he’d been having towards Buck, because it was unfamiliar, and there was too much else going on right now. He has – _wants _– to forget everything, even momentarily.

So Eddie steps into that ring and takes the hits.

To forget.

~

He knows Buck realizes something’s up with him: Buck knew it before anyone else did because it’s _Buck_.

So Eddie avoids him. He told Buck all was forgiven, and he’d meant it – mostly. He’d really just wanted to smooth things over as to avoid questions, but he should’ve known the younger man wouldn’t miss a thing.

He’s like that, in tune with Eddie. In a way Shannon – actually, that _no one _– ever had been.

Eddie supposes it’s because they’re partners, have been for a while, but Eddie also can’t help but feel there’s another reason too.

He doesn’t let his mind go there. Can’t. He can’t, no matter what he might feel. He couldn’t afford to get that close to another person, since Shannon. Because Buck was just so – so –

(Loyal. Kind. Brave.)

_Reckless. _

_What the fuck would you call yourself then, dumbass? _A voice that sounds suspiciously like Buck’s goes off in his head, and Eddie slams it down so viciously that his head starts to hurt.

~

“Eddie! You alright?”

Buck’s voice sounds somewhere from down a smoke-filled hallway. Eddie can’t see him; he’s moving slower than normal. His ribs fucking hurt, and every time he sucks in a breath, it feels like someone is stabbing him in the side. Heat presses in on him from everywhere, suffocating and unforgiving.

“Yeah, I’m coming!” Eddie shouts back, suppressing a cough and feeling like his lungs might explode.

He takes careful steps, feeling the floor for weak spots. Eventually, he makes it to Buck, who reaches out to grasp his arm.

“This floor is clear,” Buck says. “We have to clear the floor below us, and then we need to get out of here.”

Eddie nods, resisting the urge to wrap an arm around his midsection. He isn’t so sure he can handle anymore stairs, but he doesn’t have a choice.

They’d gotten called to an apartment fire; luckily, though, it was the middle of the day so not a lot of people had been home, and Buck and Eddie nor any of the other teams sent in had found anyone so far.

They make their way down the stairwell and go through the door leading to the second floor, barely making it three feet down the hall when they hear it: someone calling for help.

Without a word, Buck charges down the hallway, paying no heed to the ceiling that’s on fire above him, or checking the floor before he runs across it.

_“Dammit Buck!” _Eddie yells, following him, ignoring his ribs protesting at the sudden movement.

He hears the crash before he hears Buck’s yell and knows instantly the floor had given, and Buck had fallen through. Eddie gets to the edge of the hole that had opened up and can’t stop the sigh of relief when he sees Buck get back up almost immediately, looking up at Eddie sheepishly.

“Buck, are you alright?” Eddie yells over the roar of the fire.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Buck calls back, waving his hand. “You need to see who’s down there, don’t worry about me.”

“Fuck –” Eddie mutters. He yanks his radio to his mouth. “Diaz to command, send someone to the first floor to get Buckley – he fell through the floor. He says he’s fine, but he needs to get out.”

The radio crackles and Bobby’s voice sounds over it.

“Copy that, Diaz, sending someone in right now. Are you alright? You need to get out of there too – the building isn’t going to last much longer.”

Eddie is the furthest thing from alright. His ribs are now screaming in pain, he can barely breathe, he’s worried about Buck, and the cough he suppressed earlier finally makes its way out. He holds the radio away from him as he hacks up what feels like a lung, ignoring Buck’s concerned call from below.

“I’m fine, Cap,” Eddie finally says in a strained voice. “I have a civilian on the second floor I have to get to, and then I’m out.”

“Heard, Diaz.”

Eddie puts his radio back onto his shoulder and shakes his head. He has to focus.

Going around the hole in the floor and telling Buck that someone would be there in a minute for him, he picks his way carefully down the weakening floor, toward the voice still yelling for help.

“This is firefighter Eddie Diaz!” Eddie calls out. “Keep making noise so I can get to you!”

The voice gets louder, and Eddie hears a banging sound. It’s coming from behind a door to his left. He kicks the door in and enters the apartment. He immediately sees the source of the yelling: a girl, who can’t be more than thirteen, huddling in the corner of the living room.

“Come on!” Eddie yells, holding out his hand. The heat is becoming unbearable and the smoke growing thicker. He knows they have less than two minutes to get out of there. “Take my hand, let’s go!”

The girl shakes her head, terrified.

He knows he was going to have to carry her. She isn’t going to come out on her own, and he doesn’t have time to coax her.

He also knows it’s going to hurt like hell.

Steeling himself as much as he can, he darts toward the girl.

“I’m really sorry about this, but we need to get out of here,” he yells as he hoists the girl into his arms. Immediately he knows it was a bad idea – he staggers under her weight, barely able to hold her up, and knows he must be running on pure adrenaline. He quickly makes his way to the stairwell, feeling the building shuddering. He knows he has seconds. He throws himself down the stairs, doing his best to shield the girl from the falling debris, and it feels like the moment he steps out the door, the top of the building starts to cave in.

He’s immediately swarmed, and thanks whatever deity that Hen and Chim were there, taking the girl out of his arms, but the loss of weight does nothing to alleviate his pain – the pain in his side was so prominent it was actually starting to go numb, and his elbow that had been taking forever to heal anyway was now hard to move. His head is pounding.

“Eddie! Eddie, are you okay?”

Voices overlap and he’s led over to the truck, sat down next to Buck who’s just finished getting checked over. Eddie leans his back against the truck, trying to breathe deeply without it hurting, because he doesn’t need anyone asking to check him over, that was actually the _last _thing he needs right now.

“Eddie, man, you okay?”

He hears Buck’s voice above the rest of them, feels the hand on his shoulder, and it takes everything in him not to shrug it off.

“I’m fine,” Eddie manages, lifting his head. “I’m exhausted, and a little sore.”

He makes the corners of his mouth lift into a half-smile as he nudges at Buck. “Besides, I’m not the one who fell through the damn floor.”

Buck guffaws at him, and Eddie can’t help but laugh at the face he’s making.

It feels _good_, laughing with Buck again, ending a call on a good note – they hadn’t lost any civilians, everyone on their team is okay.

It releases something in Eddie that he didn’t know he needed.

~

By the end of his shift – he’d managed to get away from prying eyes, he insisted he was fine, and by sheer luck no one asked to check him over other than checking for smoke inhalation – the aching is back. The needing to forget.

Buck had _fallen _through the _fucking floor_, and it could’ve been a lot worse.

He needs to forget the sound of the crash, that split second when Eddie feared the worst.

Christopher is staying at his _abuela’s _that night, and before he realizes what he’s doing, Eddie’s veering off the highway at the exit to get to the fighting ring. He sees the glow of the fire in the distance, feels something relax in him.

He parks his truck and goes over to sign up, itching to get into the ring fast. He ignores his headache – it had never gone away after the fire earlier, instead had grown increasingly worse – and his ribs hurt in a way they hadn’t before, and he knows he hasn’t drunk enough water today. Pushing it all to the side, he grabs a beer and chugs it.

Finally, his name is called, and he tosses the beer can to the side, stepping up into the ring. He’s a pretty solid guy, but the dude in front of him that he’d be facing is fucking huge. Eddie’s pretty sure the guy’s arms are thicker than his own head.

Eddie doesn’t even wait until the bell rings out signaling the start of the fight – he just steps forward and throws a punch.

He puts in his effort at first, really, he does, and he does fairly well. He throws the punches, ducks when he needs to.

But then a blow takes him by surprise, landing on the side of his head, and he goes down.

He doesn’t get back up.

Not even when he feels the same fist slamming into him again and again, making sure he stays down.

The pain is almost blinding, but now it’s serving its purpose: Eddie forgets. He forgets everything.

He stops seeing Buck, trapped under that fire truck. Stops seeing Christopher, exhausted and dirty from the tsunami, stops hearing his son’s screaming in the middle of the night – the screaming that always tore a new hole through his heart. He stops seeing Shannon, lying in the crosswalk, stops seeing the last breath leave her body. He stops hearing the words falling from the lawyer’s mouth, stops seeing Buck’s face, not being able to meet his eyes as they sat across from each other.

And then a kick to the side of the head makes everything go black.

~

Buck has come to really, really fucking hate hospitals.

From practically living in one for the past six months, to them just being generally well – creepy, if he’s being honest, Buck hates them.

But the second he got the phone call near midnight, telling him that an Edmundo Diaz has been admitted, seemingly beaten unconscious and Buck is listed as the emergency contact, Buck had barely pulled a shirt on before he’s flying out the door to his Jeep, breaking every single speeding law to get to the hospital.

“Can I help you?” The nurse raises an eyebrow when Buck comes barreling through the ER doors and skids to a stop in front of the desk.

“I got a call,” Buck says breathlessly. “Eddie Diaz? He was brought here –”

“– about 20 minutes ago, they brought him straight up to surgery. And you are?”

Buck blanches at the question. He’s his _something_, isn’t he? It’s a question they’d been dancing around for the better part of months.

“I’m his partner –” Buck finally begins, going to finish ‘with the LAFD’ but the nurse cuts him off, waving her hand in the direction of the waiting room.

“You can wait in there, Mr. Diaz. When there’s news, someone will come find you.”

Buck’s shoulders slump forward as his breath catches up with him, and the reality of the situation hit him.

“Do you – please, do you have any more information? All I was told was that he was unconscious –”

The nurse purses her lips, though her gaze softens. “I’m sorry, Mr. Diaz, I do not have any more information at the time. All I know is that it was an anonymous source that phoned in the 911 call, and he was found on the outskirts of the city, at the remnants of what looked like a street fighting ring –”

“I’m sorry, _what _did you just say?” Buck asks.

“– and he was unconscious when responders got there. He did not regain consciousness on the way to the hospital, but he does have extreme bruising all over his back and torso, suggesting that whatever he’s been doing has been going on for a while. He also had massive internal bleeding, which is why he was taken up to surgery.” The nurse plows on, ignoring Buck’s look of indignance.

“A _fighting ring_?” Buck repeats. Surely Eddie wasn’t that fucking stupid – or _hypocritical_, Christ.

The nurse has a look of sympathy on her face now. “The police will have more information. They’ll be along shortly.”

Knowing he isn’t going to get anything else out of her, Buck makes his way to the waiting room, his head spinning. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, unsure of who to call first. He doesn’t want to worry Eddie’s _abuela_, or, god, _Christopher_, until he has more news, but he also knows he has to let them know. He needs to call Bobby too, but when his fingers start to move over his phone, he finds himself dialing Athena’s number.

“Buck,” she answers, and Buck knows she knows.

“A fighting ring, Athena?” Buck asks hoarsely. He leans his head back against the wall, trying to suppress the emotion rising in him.

“It was disbanded by the time we got here – thank the Lord someone had the good sense to call 911 for Eddie, but he was the only one here when we arrived.”

“Fuck,” Buck mutters.

“How’s he doing?” Athena asks.

“Oh, if he’s not dead after the surgery, I’m sure as hell going to kill him,” Buck snaps. “So not good, I’d say.”

“Buck…” Athena says slowly. “I’m not excusing his actions, of course I’m not, and I will definitely be having a talk with that boy about his hobbies, but think about it: when’s the last time someone asked him if he was okay?”

“What are you talking about, Athena?” Buck asks, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, everyone’s been going through some stuff Buck – it’s been a rough year, especially for you and Eddie. Don’t think the rest of us haven’t noticed. You both went through something traumatic in the past six months. And you had a hard time dealing with it, and I’m sure Eddie has too – maybe he’s not as put together about it as he seems. He had to hold it together for his son, but maybe something in him finally broke.”

“But Athena,” Buck protests. “Eddie’s…”

_Eddie’s what? _He thinks as he pauses. _Eddie’s so calm, collected, put together? The more level-headed of the team? Maybe he hasn’t been lately_.

“And no one’s noticed,” Buck murmurs into the phone.

“What?”

“Nothing. I have to go make some other phone calls, Athena,” Buck says distractedly. “Thanks for – for finding him. I’ll keep you updated.”

He hangs up and dials Bobby’s number. His captain answers on the first ring.

“Buck? What’s wrong?” Buck can hear the worry in his voice.

“Uh, it’s uh, it’s Eddie, Cap,” Buck says. “I got a call from the emergency room. Eddie was brought in, beaten unconscious.”

He decides to leave the fighting ring out of it for now.

“I’m on my way,” Bobby says instantly, and he hangs up the phone. Knowing he would let the rest of the team know, Buck steels himself for the last phone call he has to make.

He has Eddie’s _abuela’s _number, given to him by Eddie, in case of an emergency with Christopher. Buck never thought the emergency would be Eddie.

He dials the number, holding his breath.

“Hello? _Hola_?”

“Hello, Ms. Diaz,” Buck starts

“_Quien es _– who is this?”

“This is Evan Buckley, LAFD. I work with Eddie. We met once before,” Buck says, swallowing thickly.

“Oh, Buck, _si_, Edmundo talks about you all the time, so does Christopher.” 

“I have, uh, some bad news,” Buck says, bowing his head. “I got a call from the emergency room about an hour ago, telling me that Eddie was brought in, unconscious. He’s up in surgery now –”

“_Dios mio_, Edmundo,” Isabel says. “Have you heard anything? What happened?”

Telling Eddie’s _abuela _that Eddie had been street fighting was _literally _the last thing Buck wants to do, but he can’t lie.

“He was found at an abandoned street fighting ring – according to his injuries, it looks like this is something he’s been doing for a while. And tonight – it went too far.”

Just as he expects, the woman on the other end starts yelling in Spanish, and Buck can only pick up Eddie’s name and a curse word or two.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she eventually says. “I need to see if Carla can come over, because I will not let Christopher see his father in this state.”

“Okay,” Buck says quietly, and hangs up the phone just as Bobby comes running into the waiting room.

“Any word yet?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, I just got off the phone with his _abuela_, she’s coming as soon as she can get someone to watch Christopher.”

“What the hell happened?” Bobby asks, sitting down next to Buck.

Buck is about to open his mouth to explain, when the doors open again and two doctors come in, wearing scrubs stained with blood. Considering Bobby and Buck are the only two in the waiting room, it’s safe to say they’re there for them. The two men stand.

“Edmundo Diaz?” One of them asks, and both nod, stepping forward.

“He’s lucky,” the doctor says, taking off his scrub cap. “He is very, very lucky.”

Buck let out a strangled noise that’s somewhere between a sigh of relief and a sob. “He’s alive?”

“It was touch and go, what with the amount of internal bleeding we had to stop, but yes, he’s alive.” The second doctor steps forward.

“I’m his Fire Captain – what’s the extent of the damage?” Bobby asks, putting a hand on Buck’s shoulder. Buck feels about ready to collapse with relief. Eddie is _alive_.

“He suffered from four broken ribs – though two of them look like they’ve been broken for a while and haven’t received the proper treatment and rest to allow them to heal. One of them ended up puncturing his lung, and we had to remove part of his liver. He had a severely dislocated elbow that we’ve put back into place and in a limited-mobility cast for now, and he has a grade three concussion. He’s very lucky to not have suffered a brain bleed or a stroke. We’re going to have to keep him here for at least a week for observation, and we can speak about returning to work then.”

Bobby nods and thanks the doctors.

“When we can see him?” Buck asks, trying not to sound desperate.

“In a couple of hours, Mr. Diaz,” the doctor responds. “He’s in the ICU recovery right now, but he should be moved to a room providing there are no complications in the next few hours.”

Buck nods wordlessly, once again missing the ‘Mr. Diaz’ slip, but Bobby catches it.

“Mr. Diaz?” Bobby asks, and despite the situation, a small smile plays at his lips.

“Huh?” Buck asks, still processing the information from the doctors. “Oh, yeah, when I came in, I told the nurse that I was his partner, and before I could finish saying for the LAFD, she cut me off. I think they just assumed we’re married.”

“Uh huh,” Bobby says, still smiling.

“Not the time, Cap,” Buck says.

Bobby gets the hint and changes the subject. “What happened Buck? Did they tell you who might’ve done this?”

Eddie is already in so much shit, but Buck knows he can’t lie. Eddie needs help, and even if he hates Buck for it, he’s going to get it.

“It was a street fight, Cap,” Buck says quietly. “I called Athena as soon as the nurse told me. They said from the looks of it, Eddie’s been doing this for a while.”

Bobby’s gaze hardens. “Diaz wouldn’t be that –”

“Stupid?” Buck gives a dry laugh. “Yeah, I wouldn’t have thought so either. But Athena made a good point – none of us have thought to ask how Eddie’s doing. I mean, his wife died, what? Six months ago? Then the tsunami happened and – Christopher’s been having nightmares. Eddie’s been going through a lot, and none of us have noticed.”

“He’s a big boy, Buck,” Bobby shakes his head. “He could’ve asked for help if he needed it.”

“Not if he thought that he needed to be strong – he didn’t want to hurt Christopher more than he’s already been hurt. The kid’s already been through so much, the last thing he would need is to see his father breaking down too.”

Bobby’s eyebrows raise until they meet his hairline. “So instead his solution was to…get beaten to death in a fighting ring?”

“_Trust me_,” Buck snorts, “we’ll be discussing that.”

Bobby’s gaze softens once again and he reaches out to put a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “He needs you, kid. Maybe he doesn’t realize it, but you’re good for him.”

“I need to be a better friend,” Buck says quietly. “All this time I was only concerned about myself, only getting back to work – Athena’s right, I didn’t ever ask how he was doing. And I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Bobby says. “None of us thought to. If you need to be better, we all do.”

“Evan? Buck?”

They’re interrupted by Isabel Diaz’s voice in the doorway of the waiting room, clutching her purse tightly, almost as if she held it tight enough, Eddie might magically appear behind her.

God, Buck wishes that were true.

“Ms. Diaz –” Buck begins, making to go to her.

“Is he –”

“Alive,” Buck says quickly.

“_Dios mio_,” she says quietly. “Can we see him?”

Bobby steps forward and explains the situation. Ms. Diaz’s face pales until she could’ve been a ghost.

“That _completo idiota estúpido, _what was he _thinking_?” She yells, walking fully into the waiting room. “Was he thinking? Clearly not about his son, who’s been asking every night when his _padre querido _is coming home –”

“Edmundo Diaz?” The doctor reappears, interrupting Isabella’s rant.

All three of them look to him.

“He’s been moved to a private room if you’d like to come see him. He hasn’t woken up yet, but we hope he will in the next few hours. As I said, there’s no sign of permanent brain damage, but we won’t know anything for sure until he wakes up.”

“Thank you,” Bobby says to the doctor as he leads them down the hall and into a small hospital room. Eddie’s the only one in there, and _fuck_, Buck never wants to see him like this again: he knows this image would be one he wouldn’t be forgetting for a long, long time.

Eddie’s eyes are closed, but they can barely see his eyes because of all the bruises on his face. His whole right arm – from the shoulder down to the wrist – is in a cast. His chest rises and falls steadily in time with the machines in the room, and Buck did not want to see what was under the hospital gown, because he knows it would be worse.

“Oh, Edmundo,” Isabel moans, reaching out to take one of his pale hands.

“_Dammit, _Eddie,” Buck says, still standing near the door. He blinks furiously, trying to stop the tears that threaten to spill over. He goes to the other side of the bed and takes Eddie’s other hand without a second thought.

_Please, please be okay_ is the only thought running through Buck’s head for the rest of the night, and he isn’t even sure he’s breathing properly until he finally feels Eddie’s hand move in his.

~

“I brought groceries!”

Eddie ignores Buck’s voice as it comes through the front door, instead rolling over in his bed to face the wall. He hears the front door slam shut and then the sound of Buck moving around in the kitchen, putting stuff away.

Eddie isn’t really sure _why_ he’s brought groceries. Eddie had barely eaten anything since he’d gotten home from the hospital, and Christopher is staying with his _abuela_ for the time being.

But Buck – Buck is always _there_. He’s bringing groceries, cleaning, sitting in the living room watching TV, making Eddie food that he knows he won’t eat. Eddie hasn’t said a word to him since he’d gotten home, hasn’t been able to bring himself to – he’s embarrassed, hurt, but most of all: he isn’t done being angry.

He wants to go back to the fighting ring.

He’d been placed on medical leave from work and Bobby had promised he’d be suspended indefinitely after he was given the all clear, which Eddie knows he completely deserves.

But it doesn’t stop him from wanting to get into his truck and drive straight back to the fights. To the pain. To the forgetting.

He’s a complete, fucked-up mess and he knows it. He had had no problem with Christopher staying elsewhere – he misses him like hell, wants nothing more than to hold him, but his son didn’t deserve to see him like this. That much is rational thought.

A soft knock on the bedroom door interrupts his thoughts. Eddie’s head shoots up to see Buck standing there, shifting from foot to foot.

Buck had never come to his room, had seemed to understand that Eddie needed his space.

“Can I uh, can I come in?” Buck asks quietly.

Eddie barely allows himself to nod, and Buck pads across the room, sitting on the other end of the bed, his back to Eddie.

It’s quiet for a long time, and Eddie wonders what Buck is thinking. He wants to say something, anything, but he can’t seem to form his thoughts into words.

“Eddie, I owe you an apology,” Buck finally says, so quietly that Eddie almost doesn’t hear him.

_That _is enough to get Eddie to sit up, ignoring the dull ache that his broken ribs had been reduced to.

“What the hell are you apologizing to me for?” Eddie asks, bewildered.

Buck’s head swiveled at Eddie’s words – the older man hadn’t spoken a single word since he’d woken up. Buck’s shoulders slump forward, and as if he’s trying to get close to a baby bird without scaring it off, he carefully lowers himself until he was laying down next to Eddie, on his back.

Eddie holds his breath.

“I owe you an apology for not being a better friend,” Buck continues quietly. “I was going through so much of my own stuff – and – you were right, in the grocery store, you know. I didn’t think of how it would affect you guys. I was only thinking about how fast I could get back to work. So I’m sorry, Eddie, I’m so sorry. That I didn’t see what you were going through, and that I wasn’t here for you.”

Eddie’s heart clenches painfully, almost hurting more than his injuries.

He’d eventually expected yelling. Screaming. He was sure Buck was waiting for the right moment, to just let loose. His _abuela _sure let him have it – Eddie hadn’t been yelled at in Spanish like that since he was a teenager. He’d taken it though, just like he took Bobby’s quiet disappointment.

He had been expecting the same from Buck, and Eddie squeezes his eyes shut.

“I don’t deserve your apology, Buck,” Eddie whispers.

“Well, I’m not going to yell at you, so that’s about all you’re getting,” Buck says, shrugging.

“I’m a horrible friend, and a horrible father, god,” Eddie mutters, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Eddie,” Buck admonishes, turning to look at his best friend. “You are neither of those things. You were _scared _and angry and hurt. It’s okay to feel those things.”

“Not when I have a kid who’s already lost so much!” Eddie yells. “I can’t let him see me lose it. I have to hold it together for him.”

“Maybe that’s what he needs, though, Eddie,” Buck says. “He needs to know his father is hurting just as much as he is – it lets him know that he’s not alone, and that he can talk to you.”

“How is he?” Eddie mumbles, ignoring Buck’s words. They sting, make his mind flinch.

Buck hesitates. He’d been seeing Christopher every day. “He’s okay, Eddie, considering. He’s a little confused as to why he can’t come home yet, but always tells me to tell you that he loves you very much, and that he hopes you feel better soon.”

A dry sob escapes Eddie and he flees to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and locking it. He grips the edges of the sink, barely able to look at himself in the mirror. The bruises on his face have started to heal, most of them turning yellow in color and the swelling had been reduced drastically. The cast is still on his arm, and his stitches had pulled when he’d launched himself out of bed. He yanks up his shirt to make sure nothing is bleeding.

Buck doesn’t come to the door, and Eddie stays in the bathroom for god knows how long, eventually sliding down the wall, burying his head into his hands.

He needs to fucking just – forget everything again. But every time he needs to, it was like more and more shit had piled up that he needs to forget – he feels like he needs to forget everything, good and bad and just – start over somehow.

He has no idea how to.

He lets out a frustrated yell and leaps up, pacing the bathroom like a caged animal. A soft tap on the door comes seconds later, lending weight to the belief that Buck had been sitting right outside of it.

“Eddie? Are you okay in there?”

Eddie ignores him. If he stays quiet long enough, maybe Buck will get the hint and just leave him alone.

“I’m not going anywhere, Eddie,” Buck says through the door. “I’m not going to leave you again, despite what you may think.”

Eddie closes his eyes.

Everyone left, eventually.

~

It was three days later that Eddie tries to sneak past Buck sleeping on the couch to go back to the fighting ring.

Yeah, his arm is still in a cast, and he still has stitches, but he’s – he needs to move, needs to get out of this house. He hasn’t spoken to Buck since he’d apologized, and he isn’t sure if it’s because he didn’t know what to say, or if he couldn’t quite bring himself to yet.

Eddie doesn’t hear Buck get off the couch, only realizes he’s awake when he appears in front of the door like a fucking ninja or something.

“Get out of the way, Buckley,” Eddie growls. He really isn’t in the mood. Over the past week, his anger hadn’t dissipated, instead had grown again, until Eddie knew the only thing that would help was getting back into the ring.

“Where do you think you’re going, man?” Buck asks, ignoring the use of his full name even though it makes his heart hurt.

“None of your business,” Eddie snaps, folding his arms.

Buck sighs. “Look, man, there’s only two places you’d be going right now, and I’m betting going to see Christopher isn’t it.”

_Wow_. Eddie knows Buck hadn’t meant it that way, but his heart clenches at the words anyway – because Eddie hadn’t even thought of going to see his son, he was only concerned with getting his anger out.

_Which is _for _your son, you need to get your anger so out he never sees it. He doesn’t deserve to ever have to see it. _

“Look, Buck, you can either get out of my way, or I can move you out of the way, but either way, I’m leaving,” Eddie says.

“You wanna hit something? Hit me, go ahead,” Buck says plainly. “If it’ll really make you feel better, I’m all yours. But you’re not going back to that thing. For fuck’s sake, Eddie, you still have a cast on your arm.”

“Why do you even _care_?” Eddie asks, throwing his hands up in the air. “You weren’t here when I needed you, no one was – so why are you here now? Just go, Buck.”

Eddie averts his eyes away from Buck, because he doesn’t want to see the look of hurt he knows would be flashing across Buck’s face.

Buck clears his throat and says lightly, “Nah, I’m good here man.”

“Buck.”

Eddie says it in a low, warning tone.

“If you need to hit something, I’m right here,” Buck repeats, spreading his arms wide.

“That’s not –”

_That’s not what I need_.

Eddie doesn’t need to hit something – he needs –

“Then what is it, Eddie? What do you need?”

“I need you to get the hell out of my way,” Eddie snaps. He makes to push Buck out of the way, goes to grab his shirt collar, but with the cast on his arm, Buck deflects him gently.

“Whatever you need, Eddie, I’m willing to give. But I’m not letting you walk out that door right now. I will not throw you to the wolves.”

“I need to _forget_, Buck,” Eddie yells, lunging at the younger man again. “I need to forget everything, even if it’s only for a minute, and the only way to do that is – I’m not – I’m not going to ask you to punch me, Buck.”

Buck’s mouth drops open, and he stares at Eddie with wide eyes, still gripping Eddie’s shoulder.

“Eddie, what are you talking about? Did you – were you actually _trying _to get yourself killed? Like – you went into that ring and didn’t even try to defend yourself?”

Buck’s voice breaks, and Eddie can’t take it. He twists out of Buck’s grip and stomps back to his room, slamming the bedroom door shut once again.

~

“I swear to god, Diaz, if you don’t come out here and eat something, I will break down this door and shove a feeding tube down your throat.”

To Buck’s credit, he’d given Eddie a week.

Eddie glares at the closed door anyway, but not with as much mirth as he would’ve four days ago.

He hates to admit it to himself, but despite his efforts to hold onto it, his anger is slowly disappearing. And Eddie doesn’t like it – his anger is – it’s _familiar_, it’s a shield, it protects him from everything else he doesn’t want to feel. It’s easier to just feel the anger rather than the hurt, the loneliness.

Eddie doesn’t want to feel anything, but anger is definitely the lesser of the two evils for him.

“I’ve been eating, _Buckley_,” Eddie snaps, the words coming out before he could stop them. “I’m not starving myself to death.”

He hears Buck snort from the other side of the door. “I’m pretty sure eating three bites of an apple and half of a sandwich doesn’t count as nourishment, Eddie. You need to be giving your body the strength to heal.”

Eddie gets up and goes to the bathroom, turning the shower on full blast. He knows Buck can hear it.

He doesn’t say anything else.

~

It was 4 AM, and Eddie is sitting with his back to the wall under the window in his bedroom, sobbing.

He misses his son, his _mijo_. He hasn’t seen him in over a month, and he _misses _him, his infectious laugh and smile that lit up the darkest corners of his mind. His perseverance, his courage, his open-heart.

He misses his 118 family – he’s pretty sure Buck told everyone to give him space, because he knows they’ve been by the house, but no one’s bothered him back here. Which is fine, because he wouldn’t have opened the door for them anyway, but he – fuck, he misses being at work, misses his job, his family.

His misses his _abuela_, misses spending Sunday’s with her and Christopher. He misses Shannon – even though they’d been planning on getting a divorce, he never, _never _wished death on her. He very much wanted her to be a part of Chris’s life, and he hates that his son had to grow up without a mother.

He misses _Buck_. He misses their easiness with each other, their being in tune with one another without having to say anything. He misses being _near _him, because even just being next to him, Buck somehow made everything okay.

Eddie misses who he was before all of the anger took over, and he isn’t sure he knows how to get that person back.

~

He quietly opens the bedroom door and pokes his head out. He can hear Buck moving around in the kitchen, knows the younger man has been up for some time.

Buck had obviously taken the time off from the station to practically _live _at Eddie’s house, and even though they’d spent a total of ten minutes with each other in the past six weeks, it made Eddie feel – _good_. That Buck was willing to do that. After everything he went through to get his job back, he took the time off to make sure Eddie was okay, to not leave him alone, with absolutely zero hesitation. Buck visited Chris every day, leaving the cards and pictures his son drew for him outside his bedroom door – it tugged at something inside Eddie’s heart.

Buck cared so fucking much, and Eddie has to stifle a sob as he realized that.

He makes his way to the kitchen, sitting down at the kitchen table without a word.

“Want some breakfast?”

Buck asks the question easily, as if they’d been doing this forever, as if Eddie hadn’t just spent the past six weeks in a self-imposed isolation.

“Ye – yeah. Breakfast would be nice,” Eddie clears his throat.

Not a word is said as Buck moves around the kitchen, getting stuff out of the fridge, cracking eggs into a pan, sliding bread into the toaster. Five minutes later, he slides a plate in front of Eddie with two fried eggs and a slice of toast, plucking a glass of water down too.

Eddie thinks Buck might sit down across from him and watch him eat, maybe start with the questions Eddie knows he has, but instead, the younger man starts to clean up the mess, tossing dishes into the sink, wiping off the counter.

“Are you – aren’t you going to eat anything?” It’s like Eddie forgot how to have a conversation in the past six weeks.

“Nah,” Buck tosses over his shoulder. “Went for a run this morning and made a smoothie when I got back.”

“Oh.”

Silence falls, and though it seemed impossible, it’s awkward and comfortable at the same time.

Eddie picks up his fork and bows his head, eating slowly. He hasn’t had more than a few crackers and some fruit in the past month and a half, and he’d almost forgotten how good food was. He eats everything and drinks the entire glass of water. Before he can get up to wash his dishes, Buck is there, grabbing them and putting them into the sink before making to go out of the kitchen.

He stops briefly right next to Eddie at the kitchen table. Close enough that Eddie can reached out to touch him.

God, he wants to touch him.

Buck stares hard at him for a long moment, before gesturing to the living room.

“I’ll be in there if you need anything, okay?”

His voice is soft, and Eddie nods mutely.

_Stop giving me space! _Eddie wants to scream after him, but he also knows that for the past six weeks, that’s all he had asked for.

Anything more right now is up to him.

It takes less time than he thought it would to make himself stand up, running a hand through his hair. He walks almost mechanically into the living room, stopping behind the couch. Buck is sitting at one end, arm slung across the back of the couch, remote in the other hand. He is dressed simply in jeans and a white t-shirt, his hair longer than Eddie remembered it being, mussed a little at the sides.

He looks like _home _and something inside Eddie shattered.

Without a word, he crawls onto the couch next to Buck, curling into his side, and he swears Buck must’ve been expecting him because the younger man’s arm curls around Eddie immediately. Eddie feels Buck let out a deep exhale – as if he’s finally relaxing.

They sit in silence, Buck eventually stroking Eddie’s arm, Eddie’s head on Buck’s shoulder, watching some movie on TV.

Eddie doesn’t remember falling asleep when he wakes up some time later – it’s late in the day, the sun casting an evening glow streaming through the windows. The TV is still on, muted now. Buck had fallen asleep too, and they must’ve shifted in their sleep – Eddie is practically on top of Buck, his resting in the crook of his neck, arm draped across his waist. Buck’s head is leaning on Eddie’s, and he’s snoring softly.

Eddie hasn’t slept that well in months, and that, combined with the actual food he’d eaten this morning, leaves him feeling more clear-headed than he’d been in a long time.

Slowly, he starts to lift himself off Buck, trying not to wake the younger man. But his cast made him clumsy, and he slips and falls back down on Buck, startling him awake with a jolt.

“What – oh – hey –” Buck says, almost sheepishly, his cheeks tinged pink.

“Hi,” Eddie says softly.

And then – Eddie doesn’t know what in God’s name possesses him to do it – he leans forward and kisses Buck.

The younger man’s lips are soft, and Eddie feels every single goddamn thing fade away. It’s just him and Buck, like nothing else exists – but it wasn’t like forgetting, like the fighting had been for. It’s – it’s _good_, it’s like – it’s the light that Eddie has been desperately searching for. Buck apparently thought so too, because he returns the kiss just as gently, hands on either side of Eddie’s head.

“What was that about?” Buck whispers after a moment, when they pull away from each other. His eyes are glowing like Eddie had never quite seen them before.

Eddie opens his mouth to tell him, to tell him _everything_, but all that comes out is a wrecked sob instead.

“Hey – hey –” Buck says in alarm. He sits them up carefully, wrapping his arms around Eddie.

“I’m sorry – Buck – Evan – I’m _sorry_,” Eddie sobs.

“It’s okay, Eddie, it’s okay – everything’s fine, everyone is fine –”

“But _I’m not_,” Eddie shudders. “I’m not okay, don’t know what’s wrong with me –”

“Hey,” Buck says softly, taking Eddie’s face between his hands. “You have had a pretty horrible, well, almost past year, okay? And like I said, I am sorry that I wasn’t a better friend to you. I am sorry if I had any part in this –”

Eddie shakes his head frantically. “No, Buck, you didn’t –”

“– _but _no one is mad at you. You are _allowed _to fall apart, Eddie. You can’t be expected to hold it all in, even if you had the best intentions at heart for doing so.” Buck smiles softly, and Eddie wants to melt into the fucking couch. He reaches up to touch Buck’s hair, his face, his lips. “Everything will be alright. We’ll take it one day at a time, and I’ll be here every step of the way, okay? I’m not going anywhere again, Eddie, I promise.”

Eddie lets out another sob, leaning forward to press his face into Buck’s shoulder. He says something that’s muffled by Buck’s shirt.

“What was that?” Buck asks.

“I need help, Evan,” Eddie whispers, pulling his head up. “I – I – I got so angry, and it’s like – it took over everything I was feeling, and I felt like – I lost bits of myself, to the point where all I wanted to feel was something other than the anger and everything else and pain seemed to do that.” He crumples, burying his face into his hands, tears leaking out from behind his fingers. “Please help me. Please.”

Buck’s heart breaks as he watches his best friend’s shoulders shake, and he leans forward, wrapping a hand around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulling him forward until their foreheads are touching.

“Eddie,” Buck breathes. “I’m right here. And I will help you, through anything and everything.”

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck’s shoulders, hooking his chin over his shoulder, and Buck hugs him back just as hard, feeling Eddie’s heart beating against his own, akin to a jackrabbit, hammering loud and fast - but Buck knows it’s on the way to slowing itself down.

~

Later, after they’d made dinner – Buck heated up some soup while Eddie made grilled cheese sandwiches; they’d stood pressed shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen – and cleaned up, Eddie had tugged on Buck’s hand until Buck followed him to bed.

Buck is propped up on the pillows, Eddie’s head on his chest, Buck running his fingers through Eddie’s hair.

“Does everyone hate me?” Eddie whispers after a little while. “Does Chris hate me?”

Buck’s eyes widen and his hand stills. “God, Eddie, _no_, no one hates you. I think Cap got over his anger by the second week you’d gone without coming out of your room – he was more worried than anything. And Christopher – he loves you _so much_, Eddie, every day he asks if you’re better enough for him to be able to see you.”

“I hate that I put him through this,” Eddie says frustratingly. “He just lost his mother, and then his father goes off the rails and he can’t see me for who knows how long.”

“He’s the most understanding kid in the world, Eddie,” Buck says. “All he wants is for you to get better.”

“I’m going to,” Eddie says with a determination he hadn’t felt in ages. “I’ll be – get – better.”

Buck leaned down to kiss the top of Eddie’s head and Eddie closes his eyes, leaning into it. “You’re already the best you you’ll be, Eddie. No need to change. Like I said, and like everyone else knows – you can’t be expected to hold everything in forever.”

“Did you really take all of this time off work?” Eddie asks. “After everything you went through to get your job back – you just – took more time off? To be with – me?”

Buck shrugs. “I wanted to be here when you realized that you needed someone. Couldn’t leave you alone, run the risk of you running out to do something stupid again.”

Eddie’s head whips up to see a crooked smile on Buck’s face. _God_, he’d missed that smile.

“Could’ve gone out while you were visiting Christopher,” Eddie grumbles, putting his head back down.

“Took your car keys with me every time I left,” and Eddie can _feel _the smirk rolling off Buck.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Eddie mutters, and Buck laughs, a deep rumbling sound that vibrates in his chest.

“I missed you,” Buck says softly, resuming running his hands through Eddie’s hair.

Eddie’s breath catches as a wave of emotion rises in him, and he turns to hide his face for a brief moment in Buck’s chest, before taking a deep breath and leaning up to kiss Buck gently.

“Missed you too.”

~

“Are you sure it’s going to be okay? I mean…I can give him more time, if he needs it –”

Buck looks over to him like he’s grown another head, then shook his own. “Are you kidding me, man? When I told the little dude that he’d get to see you today, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that excited. Ms. Isabel told me he barely slept last night because he was so excited.”

Eddie rubs the back of his neck, ducking his head. “I just – I wonder if _I’m _ready – it’s been almost two months since I’ve seen him, Buck. And I miss him, god, I miss him, but – what if I’m not – I just don’t want to see him if I’m not 100% me again, because he doesn’t deserve anything less than that.”

“Eddie,” Buck says softly, reaching over to take Eddie’s hand. “You just got done with your first therapy session. Even if you’re not 100% yet, you’re taking the necessary steps to get there.”

Eddie sighs. He had just left his first therapy appointment. Buck had driven him to the hospital the week before, a few days after Eddie’s realization that he wasn’t angry anymore – just lost. They’d taken his cast off, pronounced his arm as good as new, and cleared him to go back to work, whenever Bobby was ready to let him. When Buck had stepped out of the room, Eddie steeled himself and asked the doctor for a recommendation for a therapist, one that specialized in anger and PTSD. The doctor had more than happily given him, and even made an appointment for him.

Which is where Buck had driven Eddie this morning. Eddie had been finding it easier to leave his room as more time passed, helped Buck more with the cooking and cleaning up around the house. He’d finally shaved, cleaned up his bedroom, and it felt _good_. He felt like he was on the way to getting himself back.

The therapy session had gone better than Eddie expected – he felt like he clicked with the therapist, an older man who was also a war veteran, and seemed to understand where Eddie was coming from.

Buck had waited in the truck, even though Eddie had told him he didn’t have. Buck waved it off, pulling out his phone to play that damn Candy Crush game. Eddie had stifled a laugh, and squeezed Buck’s hand before he got out of the car.

He’d come out of the building feeling absolutely better than he had in weeks – and that worried him. He’d been fine for a long time after getting out of the army, falling into a routine with Christopher – and then suddenly he wasn’t okay. What if it happened again?

He was going to voice these fears to Buck, was finally open to maybe talking about some things, when he’d noticed Buck fidgeting.

“What’s up?” Eddie had asked instead. Buck hadn’t started the car yet, was just sitting there, looking at Eddie.

“How would you feel about seeing Christopher today?” Buck blurted out, and Eddie had almost felt his heart stop.

“What?” He’d whispered. Of course he wanted to see his son, but was he ready?

“I think it’ll do you both good,” Buck said, reaching for Eddie’s hand automatically. “He really wants to see you, and I think you’ve made some good progress in the past week or so – I think you’ll be ready.”

Which is how Eddie finds himself getting driven to his _abuela’_s house, and that’s when he’d voiced his opinion – if Christopher needed more time, than Eddie would give it to him, but Buck assured him that Christopher would be fine.

Buck parks the truck in the driveway, hopping out before Eddie can even get his door open. His hands are sweating, and he feels his heart speed up. _He’s going to see Christopher. _He slowly climbs out of the truck, and as he shut the door, he hears it.

“_Dad!” _

Eddie blinks, and then his son is in front of him, hugging his legs as tight as he could.

“_Mijo_,” Eddie breathes, and just like that, every single doubt he’d had about seeing his son again disappeared. Eddie bends down and lifts Christopher into his arms, feeling Christopher laugh as Eddie cradles the back of his head to his shoulder. He hugs Christopher tight, relishing in the feeling of holding his son again, finally feeling like the last piece he’d been missing fall into place.

“Are you feeling better, dad?” Christopher asks, lifting his head and putting his hand on Eddie’s cheek, curling his fingers.

Eddie smiles, surprised he still knows how to, and he feels the muscles stretch wide across his face. He looks towards the house, where his _abuela _is standing, hand clutching the porch rail, a small smile on her face. He looks at Buck, who’s standing at the bottom of the steps, hands in his pockets, grinning from ear to ear. Finally, he looks back to Christopher, seeing his little face that’s bursting with joy, and Eddie feels tears prickling the corners of his eyes.

“Yes_, mijo_, I am” Eddie says softly, kissing Christopher’s forehead. “I have everything I need right here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, anger is something that has to be worked through alone most times, because more often than not, other people won't understand why you're angry in the first place. I also understand that pain is something that can make everything else go away, so I wanted to explore these things from Eddie's perspective.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed :)


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